


please forgive me

by dangerdays



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerdays/pseuds/dangerdays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Party's staggering around the battle, ends of his hair singed, all the Dracs dead, when he hears the scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	please forgive me

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song "crown of love" by arcade fire. sorry for this i had this image in my head.

Party's staggering around the battle, ends of his hair singed, all the Dracs dead, when he hears the scream. Ghosted. Done for. Doesn't matter the words, Party just wants them dead and the bodies cooling on the ground by the time his gun stops humming. The handle is still warm, and this is the first thing at the forefront of the brain when he hears the scream. 

He knows that scream. A scared, trembling fright that completely overtakes him. He's heard it before sometimes, in the dead of the night. It's Ghoul. It's Ghoul, and the scream hits him right in the gut. "Ghoul!" He screams too, like it's been ripped from him, and he whirls around and sees him. 

Party's too late. Too late to do anything but take out the Drac who's holding Ghoul's Frankenstein mask in his left hand, green blaster in his right. Ghoul lays crouching on the ground, his head is in his hands. No, no, a Drac's head is in his hands, it's not Ghoul, not him, not him. He's shaking softly, still screaming, screaming Party's name, and Party runs to him, crouches down in front of him and just stares, his own hands shaking as he grabs the mask and gun from the Drac laying next to him. Ghoul needs these. He needs them, they're his, and Party keeps saying his name over and over again as Ghoul gradually stops screaming and shaking. It's so sudden, so methodical, the way his head snaps up, his dead eyes look right at Party. His long, black hair hangs out the back of the mask, and all Party can think is _His hair's too long, he wanted to cut it, we were gonna- we were gonna_ but the thought is cut off. Ghoul gets up, no, the thing wearing Ghoul's clothes gets up and staggers toward Party who's still crouching on the floor. "Ghoul." He says, falling back onto his back, staring up at Ghoul, who's just staring down. "Ghoul. Ghoul. Please." Party begs him, but Ghoul's opened his eyes, just staring right through him. Party closes his own, he can't look, can't look at Ghoul and his dead eyes and his too-straight back and his methodical breathing. "Take it off, Ghoul, take it off, listen to me." He screams, growing panicky as he keeps scrambling back, scrambling to his feet, Ghoul's gun in one hand and his mask in the other, eyes still shut. "I'm begging you, Ghoul, you've gotta take the mask off. Listen to me, Fun Ghoul, Frank, it's me, Party, Poison, Gee, please, listen." He opens his eyes, mistake, cause Ghoul's eyes are staring at him, angry, angry right out of those horrible black holes in the mask. "Ghoul!" He screams, hysteric, holds the green blaster up, just as Ghoul raises his white one, but his hand isn't shaking the way Party's is shaking, his eyes aren't watering the way Party's are, and he knows Ghoul can't fucking feel anything the way Party can, all this anger and sadness that's building inside him. "Please." He whispers, and tears spill out this time, and the thing that isn't Ghoul says in Ghoul's voice, but dead, "Put the gun down, Party Poison." 

He doesn't. He moans, a noise that he can't even fucking articulate, just a sad, sad noise. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." He sucks in a breath, hardens his face, and squeezes the trigger. The gun isn't even warm in his hand, the blast doesn't give him that thrill that it usually does, and Ghoul crumples to the floor. Party starts to cry even harder, and his knees drop out from under him, collapsed into the dirt. He drags Ghoul's body to him, he smells like singed hair, and he just holds him. His head lolls forward, and he grabs the back of the mask, pulls it off him, and holds him in his arms. The mask lands off in the dirt, and his eyes are open, his eyes are open and he's not breathing. Party lays him down in his lap, head resting on Party's thigh. His eyes still stare up at Party, dead, dead as they were when he shot him. 

Party's hands are shaking as he closes Ghoul's eyes, and he's sobbing again. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you." He twirls strands of Ghoul's hair between his fingers, crying, eventually shifting him so he's cradling his head. 

When they find him, he's holding Ghoul still, gun and mask next to him. He pretends like they aren't there, just staring with red rimmed eyes at Ghoul. He's mumbling things that no one can here. Kobra and Jet just kind of look at him sadly, and sigh. Kobra already figured Ghoul was dead, if he was alive he knew Party would be back for help in seconds. Jet puts it together from the mask laying in the dirt, from the way Party is so broken up. He knows Jet Star moves to grab Ghoul from Party, who snaps his head up. "No." He growls, holding Ghoul closer to him. "No." Jet takes him anyways Party just stares at Jet like he's the one who killed Ghoul. "Party." Jet says calmly, he's holding Ghoul like a bride, and he looks small in Jet's arms. "I'll take care of him." Party nods slowly, accepts it, and picks the gun and the mask up off the ground before scurrying after Kobra, before grabbing him and holding him tight. Kobra says nothing, but he's crying too, holding Party to him as they climb into the backseat. Jet puts Ghoul in the trunk, and the car is weirdly empty without the four of them crammed into the space. Party lays his head in Kobra's lap and cries until he falls asleep, Kobra's hands threaded through his hair. 

When Party wakes up, it hits him again. He's still holding Ghoul's gun in his hands and his mask is there too. That's all he has left, all he has left of Ghoul because Jet fucking took him from Party, BLI took him from Party, he took Ghoul from himself. Jet and Kobra aren't around, and Party feels that pang in his chest. Ghoul would've hung back, Ghoul would've said to wait for him. He holds the gun a little tighter, and he walks out the door. The desert light blinds him, and he pulls on te mask. Not his mask, Ghoul's mask. It's hot and heavy in here, it makes him feel better though. He can breathe. 

The mailbox isn't far, and he knows that this is what he has to do. Ghoul didn't believe in these kind of things, and he knows his body is buried out back with a cross. But Party knows that if she's real, his soul's lost. Waiting. He can't leave him out here. _He always hated the cold._ He hasn't written him a letter, he knows if he wants to really tell him goodbye, it'd take more than a letter. It'd take something he doesn't think he can do, he doesn't want to say goodbye. But he has to. 

He doesn't say much, just opens the mailbox and pulls the mask off. He keeps the gun though, holds it tighter in his hand. He doesn't get to keep anything of Ghoul's, since there's not much of anything _to_ keep. After he sends his mask off, just the gun. He needs something to keep, something to remind him people like Ghoul exist. Nobody could replace him, but at least he existed. He slips it in the deposit drawer, and lets it slam shut, heavy and loud. 

He knows Ghoul probably can't hear him, but he mumbles goodbye anyways, mumbles that he's sorry. "Love you." He says, as he slips Ghoul's gun into his empty holster.


End file.
